


It Begins

by Rarepair



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack Fic, Gardening, M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rarepair/pseuds/Rarepair
Summary: A Sherlock AU short fic where Jim and Sherlock are neighbors who both love to garden.





	It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is a wee bit cracky but fun!

   Jim nodded to his neighbor (still garbed in his dressing gown) as he padded down the front steps of his townhouse to retrieve his mail. The larger man’s intense blue-green eyes narrowed. His grip on the watering hose seemed to tighten. Jim’s lip tugged up at the corner involuntarily. Something was bothering the consulting detective, that was apparent. The hose didn’t move from over the little potted shrub and it was drowning in an unending torrent of unnecessary refreshment. This secretly please Jim, of course. He liked nothing better than to perturb the handsome grump.

     After he retrieved his mail, Jim turned and gave Mr. Holmes a little wave with his fingers.

     “Morning, neighbor!” he called in a sing-song voice.

     A muscle flecked in Holmes’ jaw. His nose wrinkled. Jim twitched his brows and skipped over to the low concrete wall that separated their properties and leaned against the decorative iron fence that ran along the top of it.

     “Anything amiss?” he asked cheerfully.

     Holmes lifted his chin. His lips twitched just before he spoke. 

     “Your mutant Rhododendrons are killing my bees.”

     Jim suppressed a smile and clucked his tongue. “Whu-ut? Are you sure?”

     He glanced over his shoulder at his prize bush. Its unique purplish-black blooms glistened like a thousand little disco deaths. He loved that plant more than life. He grinned to himself as a bee flopped out of one of the flowers.

     “I have no idea what you are talking about! Bees know better, don’t they? I am positive it’s instinctual for them to steer clear of such a plant-”

      “Not if a pheromone lure is employed,” the detective growled.

      Jim turned back slowly with an exaggerated raise of his brows. “Who would do such a thing? Surely you don’t believe I would-”

      With a flick of his free hand, Holmes produced a crumpled receipt from his dressing gown pocket. “I found this in your trash. One vial of imitation Nasanov, £13.99 from Bert’s Gardening World.”

     Jim waved at him dismissively. “Pssshhhh! I used that to encourage your little pals to pollinate my tomatoes out back. I’m hoping for a bumper crop.”

      Holmes snorted and stuffed the paper back in his gown. He stretched his neck. 

     “You realize I have … connections, right? My brother knows people in the Department of Environment, Food and Rural affairs. I could very well have them investigate that noxious weed of yours-”

      Jim’s chin dropped. His smile faded and his brows drew together. 

      “If anything happens to my Rhody, Mr. Holmes, I would be very displeased. Very displeased. You do not want to upset this particular neighbor.”

      The tall man’s chest puffed, he dropped the hose and stepped forward until he was nose to nose with Jim.

     “Lay off my bees then, short arse.”

     Jim felt a frission of energy course through him. A jolt of electricity went through his belly when Holmes’ eyes flitted to his lips for a fraction of a second.

      “Why call the Ministry?” Jim ground out. “Why not be a man and mete out the punishment yourself if you’re so sure I’m a bee-killer?”

      Holmes glowered. “Oh, you don’t want to press me on that, Dr. Moriarty. I assure you … you have much more to fear from me than any government agent. I may be on the side of the bees, but don’t think for one second that I only have one sting in me.”


End file.
